the fat man

the fat man sat
on a trail-side bench
while he sang to himself
'It won't get dark"
at 3 o'clock on a sunny afternoon.

he had no other words.

he kept repeating his refrain.

he tried to convince me of this
prophesy

while I was

walking past, and i saw the king's tower
straight ahead where i had parked my car,

so i kept walking.

now, hours later

it is dark and raining, which i can
see and hear and feel and smell.

i wonder where the fat man is.